Shirt
by TheLightIsMine
Summary: While Ordo's away, Besany misses him. Then she finds his shirt in the wash...and has a surprise visitor which leads to an embarrassing night, and a little romance...Besany/Ordo humour fic. Cuteness. Two-shot, once from Besany's POV, once from Ordo's.
1. Besany

**Shirt**

Besany stretched. The sunlight was beaming in through a gap in the blinds, hitting her face and dazzling her with its brightness. She sat up.

Ordo wasn't here. He was hardly ever here. The bed was empty beside her, cold and seemingly too large for just her. Letting him leave every time was painful, like she was tearing out a piece of her own heart and throwing it to the ends of the galaxy, never to know if it would return. It was probably true.

She missed him. She got out of bed, hoping to distract herself from lonely thoughts by giving herself something to do. Drawing back the blinds, she looked out at the busy city as she did every morning, wondering what her life would be like if Ordo had never come crashing – almost literally – into it. Would she still be working at the Republic Treasury? Would she still talk the same, walk the same, act the same around people? Would she be happier? Sadder? What did it matter? There was no going back.

She was happy. Going back, erasing Ordo, would feel even worse than letting him leave to risk his life.

It was a weekend, and the kind of day that they would have spent out, seeing the city and doing normal-couple things, forgetting the fact that he could be dead in a week's time. The sun was bright, glittering off the numerous skyscrapers of Coruscant and passing speeders. Perhaps a walk in the park, if he had been here.

But she had work to do. The living room was a mess after her night-in last night, not to mention the amount of laundry she had to do, plus the dishes from dinner that she had uncharacteristically put off until today. Maybe getting dressed could wait. It wasn't as though anyone would be calling to visit her today.

She thought she'd start with the laundry. Making her way into the main room of her apartment, she grabbed the basket of clothes that had been left by the kitchen counter and started to sort the items.

Socks…underwear…her office shirts…Ordo's jacket…the scarf she'd been looking for for weeks now wasn't there, though…she'd have to try the wardrobe again…she hoped she hadn't left it somewhere…

She stopped. She'd noticed something briefly jump out at her from underneath some white bed sheets, something blood red. She frowned. She hoped Ordo hadn't injured himself without telling her…

Slowly, she extracted the red material from under the sheets and shook it out. It was a shirt, long sleeved and red, with white patches on the upper arm bearing some sort of symbol in black, and a loose v-neck. She recognised it immediately. It was the top half of Ordo's fatigues.

A memory flashed through her mind. It was brief; she had been upset about him being gone for so long and had started to cry once he had returned, as he had not returned any of her calls and she had feared him dead. He had pulled her into his arms, his warm, strong, safe arms, and held her there, stroking her hair softly and murmuring comforts into her ear. She had curled her hands into fists, grabbing the red material of his fatigues in her hands and burying her face in his shoulder, inhaling that calming scent that she recognised now as simply _Ordo_. He had held her all night, his arms never once leaving her. The red of his shirt had been a comfort, like the red that lined his armour. It was a part of him.

She let the material run through her hands, remembering. It was both light and heavy, as though it was warm in winter but cooling in summer when the sleeves were rolled up. It wasn't rough, but not especially smooth, like freshly ironed sheets, and it felt comfortingly familiar in her hands, like she was holding something that had been lost to her for a long time but her hands still remembered how to hold it.

Something inside her ached for Ordo. She wondered if it still smelled like him. She felt her arms lift the material to her nose, almost as though she had no control over them. Pausing, her heart fluttering in her chest, she exhaled slowly. She held it for a moment. Then she breathed in deeply.

_Ordo_.

She could have cried. It was as though she was standing next to him, feeling his physical presence beside her. With her eyes closed, she could imagine him just about to put his arms around her and pull her close. She almost believed he would.

But her brain wasn't so easily fooled, sadly.

In an apparent moment of madness, she stripped off the tank top she was wearing and threw Ordo's shirt on over her head, letting her arms fall into the sleeves and pulling it down, past her nose as it went, inhaling more of his scent.

The sleeves were too long and the v-neck front was low on her chest, the bottom of the shirt falling past her hips, but she didn't care. Her heart was beating strangely fast. She wondered if there was something wrong with her today. She did feel oddly flushed…

She didn't care. She felt almost giddy. He was closer to her now. She could feel him.

She spent the rest of the day wearing his shirt.

She even turned on the music channels at one point and had a dance around her apartment. She'd never felt so silly. Or so happy. She finished the dishes and the laundry, vacuumed the floor of her living room and cleaned the kitchen surfaces.

The locks clicked in the door at about 1800 hours. Besany froze, switching off the music hurriedly. She looked around for her blaster, the one Mereel had given her, but it was still in the bedroom, and the door was already opening. In a moment of madness – she was, after all, wearing nothing but her underwear and her boyfriend's oversized shirt – she flung herself backwards into the wall, as though to distance herself from the intruder, or maybe even to melt into the wall. That would have been more effective.

Before she even saw him, her brain realised that intruders didn't have a key to her apartment.

He closed the door behind him, and turned around. He did a double take, blinking rapidly, as though he thought he was seeing things. Besany blushed furiously. This was _so_ unlike her.

She blushed even harder when she realised she was wearing his shirt. And nothing much else. What would he think of her now?

"Besany?" Ordo's voice carried a hint of amusement. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards slightly and he tilted his head to the side.

"Um…hey, Ordo." She tried to pull his shirt down further to cover her legs, but in doing so only managed to reveal more cleavage as the v-neck was tugged down further. She could have kicked herself, save for the fact that that would have made her look even more of an idiot.

"I didn't know you were coming home," she tried, but something about the way Ordo was looking at her made her legs feel like jelly. It seemed to affect her voice as well. It was then she realised she was still pressed up against the wall. She didn't want to move too fast in case she looked odd, so decided the wait until he wasn't looking at her so curiously to regain her composure.

Ordo gestured to her comm, which was lying on the kitchen counter. "I called four times. You never picked up."

Besany really did want to just melt into the wall now, and never come back. "I'm sorry," she laughed, putting a hand over her face to hide her blush, "I had the music up loud. I didn't hear it." She left off the fact that she'd been dancing. His opinion of her didn't need to slip _that _low.

He grinned a little. "That's okay."

There was an awkward pause. Neither of them seemed to want to mention the fact that Besany was wearing his shirt. Or that she was still shifting her legs to try and hide some skin. It was a little inappropriate.

"Um…can I get you anything to eat?" Besany asked, anxious for an excuse to get off the wall.

Ordo looked thoughtful. "Maybe just a snack. I had a big meal before leaving."

She nodded and tried not to blush. She unstuck herself from the wall and walked past him to the kitchen area.

It was then she realised that he probably had a very inappropriate view of her behind.

She could almost feel his grin.

She had to stand on tiptoes to reach the cupboard where the plates were.

_Oh, no. Gods, please no._

Trying to both pull the shirt down over her behind and reach upwards nearly tore the top. She froze. She didn't want to rip it. It was important to her. And to him, probably.

She heard him go into the bedroom, removing his armour as he went. She could breathe. He'd be getting changed. She rudely pushed out the thought that maybe he had gone to get changed out of his armour because it was rather…_tight_ in certain areas. Now was _not _the time for that. He reappeared a few minutes later, wearing loose pants and a thin t-shirt. She tried not to blush even more when she realised she could see the lines of his muscles through the shirt.

He came and stood very close behind her, so close that she could feel his body heat through her – _his _– shirt. She waited for him to put his arms around her like he usually did, but instead he put his hands on her shoulders and buried his nose in her hair. She started to calm down; the effect of his touch was soothing. She might have even been able to forget exactly how embarrassing the whole situation was.

"You're wearing my shirt," Ordo murmured into her hair.

Besany flushed all over again. She was sure he could feel her skin heat under his hands.

"I know."

"I like it on you."

Besany could have melted into the floor, had physics not intervened. Somewhere under all her embarrassment she felt warmth pool low in her. It felt good when he said things like that.

"I'm sorry," she laughed quietly, "I just…"

"You just…what?" He squeezed her shoulders gently.

"You'll think I'm crazy."

"I already do."

She swatted at him as he laughed, and leaned back into his body, sighing. His hands left her shoulders and wrapped around her. She rested hers on top of his.

"I missed you."

They both smiled. They'd said that at the same time.

"It still smells like you," Besany whispered, the colour returning to her cheeks. Now she _did_ sound like a crazy stalker.

To her surprise, Ordo just nodded and stroked his thumbs over her midriff, causing strange ripples to run through her at his light touch.

"When I'm out on the field, I have something of yours to keep me company," he whispered. By way of explanation, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out her missing scarf. She watched, wide-eyed, as he wrapped it around his hand and drew it to his face, inhaling slowly with his eyes closed. Behind her chest, she felt his heartbeat slow. She felt less embarrassed now, somehow. If he did it too, it wasn't stupid.

"I've been looking for that everywhere."

"I know. But I didn't want to give it back." Now he looked mildly embarrassed. "It still smells like you." He added, mirroring her earlier words.

There was a pause, in which Besany reflected in the oddness of the situation – she was standing in the kitchen, half-naked, wearing Ordo's shirt, and he had her scarf wrapped in his fist and had it pressed to his nose. She giggled and turned in his arms to face him.

"I guess we're both crazy, then."

"Not crazy. Just…" Ordo looked out of the window, his eyes clouded with some sort of emotion. Besany wasn't sure if she should prod him to continue. Maybe he needed some time to forget what he'd seen on the battlefield recently. She didn't know.

"Just…?" She reached up to stroke his face, bringing him back to face her.

"Just…in love."

The moment he said it he seemed to think he'd said the wrong thing. He sighed and tried to pull out of her arms, as though he gave up.

Besany stopped him from walking away by kissing him.

He stopped, and after a moment returned her kiss, his arms encircling her and pulling her flush against him. She realised, half-consciously, that she was essentially half-naked. She decided she didn't care any more.

She let her hands hold his face, pulling him deeper into the kiss, and in doing so pressing her body harder against his. He gasped, and then returned her passions with a kind of heat she had never seen from him before. She could almost feel it run through him, pulsing through his veins. His heart was beating in time with hers; she could feel it hammering against his ribcage to the same rhythm as hers.

His hands moved to her waist, his thumbs gliding over the red material of the fatigues and seeking warmth under it. It tickled lightly and she half-giggled, half-gasped as he rubbed slow circles over her waist. She broke the kiss and rested her head on his shoulder, breathing deeply. His heart was loud in her ear. He had dropped the scarf. It pooled on the floor at their feet.

Ordo looked at her, something dark in his eyes and his voice husky. "I think you should take this off, _cyar'ika_. Otherwise it'll end up smelling like you more than me."

She met his eyes and let the hints of a smirk play at the corners of her mouth. She leaned in for another kiss, but stopped short of his lips, barely a hairs breadth between them.

"Why don't you take it off me?"

Ordo crushed their lips together, lifting her off the floor and placing her on the kitchen counter, pressing their bodies together. At the feel of his strong body, heated against hers, she moaned onto his lips. He opened his mouth and their tongues met in fire as he pulled her harder against him, all military precision and protocol that she knew him for thrown out of the window.

They moved to the bedroom as the sun went down, all oranges and red and flames. She lay with him, and he with her, and stayed in each others arms until it rose again.

The shirt joined the scarf on the floor.

Until she needed it again.

**Finis**

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><p><em>For the girls at TCWWU – I added a countertop in there for y'all. ;)<em>

_Hope you enjoyed it. If you're reading/have read my fic 'Reasons to Live For', you could kind of imagine that this fic is the night of Besany and Ordo's child's conception. I'm going to think of it that way, I think. :)_

_This was inspired by a drawing of mine up on deviantART, called **'Not Just Dinner'**, in which Besany is giggling wearing nothing but Ordo's fatigues. If you search for 'Besany Wennen', you'll find it. My dA name is **~Stars-Are-Cushions**._

_Thanks for reading! Let me know if you liked it. Review, fave, send me a PM, subscribe to me as an author…serenade me, write me a letter…I'm not picky how you do it. :) My personal favourite is, of course, the review button below._

_Please, please check out **Epona's Chosen** and her RepCom fanfics. Her romance is awesome. Also check out my profile for more._

_Thanks!_

_~TheLightIsMine_


	2. Ordo

**Shirt Part II - Scarf**

The first thing Ordo had thought was strange was the fact that Besany hadn't answered his calls.

She _always _answered.

To say he had been surprised to see Besany standing against the wall of her apartment, looking the most embarrassed he had ever seen her, was quite an understatement.

Then there was the fact that she was wearing his fatigues.

Or half of them, at least.

The next thing he had found strange was the way he had reacted to this.

He had found himself very reluctant to do anything to help her.

And he had had thoughts that he would have been extremely ashamed of had he been in any other situation. He was afraid he was turning into Mereel. His brother would have, at this point, gone up to Besany and had his way with her against the wall, he thought. Then he had to back away from that; both the images of Mereel with Besany and seeing more of her smooth thighs were enough to make him feel very odd inside, for completely different reasons.

"Besany?" He satisfied himself with a half-smile, tilting his head. He liked the way she blushed a shade that was near to the blood red of his shirt.

She mumbled some sort of reply, but he was too caught up in the way she was trying to pull the shirt down to cover her legs some more, only resulting in showing more of her creamy skin up top. He swallowed.

"…didn't know you were coming home."

He noticed her comm was lying on the kitchen counter. He pointed this out to her. She flushed even redder. He quite liked that effect. It was interesting to see her ruffled; she was normally so composed.

"I called four times. You never picked up."

A twinge low in his gut threw him for a moment. Was the reason she hadn't picked up because she'd been with someone else…another man? That might explain her…_attire_ and flustered air, as though she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't have been. He felt hurt.

"I'm sorry," she laughed, putting a hand over her face to hide her blush. He thought that was…what was the word? Ah, _cute_, "I had the music up loud. I didn't hear it."

The image of Besany dancing to loud music was almost so absurd that he was inclined not to believe her and go with his version of events, that she'd been with someone else. _Almost_. Having walked in on her in this state, nothing seemed absurd any more.

He grinned a little. "That's okay."

In the pause that followed, Ordo enjoyed a view of Besany shifting her long legs, trying to cover up more skin. It didn't work. He mentally slapped himself for being pleased. He wondered if he could get away to check the bedroom for people hiding…he still wasn't convinced…

"Can I get you anything to eat?" She seemed very eager to move from the wall. He suppressed a laugh. The whole situation was quite amusing, from one angle.

Food. He thought for a moment. "Maybe just a snack," he nodded, "I had a big meal before leaving."

As she moved past him, he felt the heat from her flushed body. He couldn't resist a glance downwards.

He shifted. Watching her reach up for the plates gave him a nice view – nice, but uncomfortable. His armour suddenly felt too tight. He decided to take it off. He headed to the bedroom, removing his pauldron as he went, taking the time to glance surreptitiously under furniture and around corners. He laid his armour plates out on the bed, and then grabbed a thin shirt and some loose pants. He couldn't resist checking the 'fresher, or under the bed. No one was there. He couldn't hear any sounds of breathing. Maybe he'd been imagining things. Maybe he was too paranoid.

The truth was, he couldn't believe that Besany was _his_.

She was beautiful. Stunningly so, in a way that made his heart contract when she walked into a room. She seemed to glow, her golden hair and pale skin luminous when she looked at him. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. He couldn't help but wonder what exactly she saw in him that made her so…devoted. She never prodded him for information about where he'd been and what he'd seen, like she understood that being through it once was bad enough. As far as he was concerned, he was nothing special. Which was why he was always so touched when he came back to her after weeks, months of being away, and she still loved him as much as she had when he'd left. If she _had _cheated on him, he wouldn't have blamed her. It must be hard on her, being away from him so much. It was hard on him, though he never admitted it.

Out of his belt pouch, he pulled a line of soft material, bringing it to his nose and inhaling her scent, Besany's scent. It surrounded him, comforted him almost as effectively as her touch, slowing his racing heart and soothing his raging emotions when he felt the most out of control and the most lost. If he slept on the battlefield, he wrapped it in his hand, and slept with it to his face. If he was away from her, he fondled the material and let it fall in his hands, reminding him of her silken hair and the way it played through his fingers. It kept him going.

He put it in his pocket. He suddenly understood why she had felt the need to wear his shirt.

Tokens of war.

He made his way back into the lounge-come-kitchen, aching for her touch and her presence. He stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, burying his nose in her hair, smelling Besany, real, solid, tangible Besany. Not her scarf.

"You're wearing my shirt." It wasn't a question.

He felt her skin heat under his hands. She was blushing again. He hadn't meant to embarrass her.

"I know."

He was good with his instincts. Right now, they told him to forget his army inhibitions and just be himself. She needed him, too.

"I like it on you." It was the truth.

"I'm sorry," she laughed quietly, "I just…"

He squeezed her shoulders. He couldn't seem to get enough of her, her smell, her skin, her hair. "You just…what?"

"You'll think I'm crazy."

"I already do." He couldn't stop the smile that escaped him. It had been a bit of an odd night.

Her hit didn't hurt; he knew she meant nothing behind it. He'd lost the physical contact with her now, though, and craved it once again. He brought her into his arms, and let her rest her hands on top of his, which were clasped over her midriff. He could have cried. He had missed her so much.

"I missed you."

So she'd been thinking the same thing. They'd both spoken at the same time.

"It still smells like you," Besany whispered.

Ordo now completely understood. He stroked her stomach lightly with his thumbs and leaned his head closer to her ear.

"When I'm out on the field, I have something of yours to keep me company," he whispered. By way of explanation, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out her missing scarf, wrapping it around his hand and pulling it to his face once again. She seemed to relax slightly in his arms.

"I've been looking for that everywhere." She said, softly.

He felt embarrassed now, and was glad she couldn't see his face. "I know. But I didn't want to give it back. It still smells like you." He added, mirroring her earlier words. He had thought about giving it back, but he'd found it so comforting that he couldn't bear to part with it. He felt silly now.

"I guess we're both crazy, then."

Her words felt wrong. Like it was meant to be a joke, but neither of them was in the mood.

"Not crazy. Just…" Ordo looked out of the window, remembering fallen brothers, clones killed in front of his eyes, a blaster gun round that had shaved inches off his arm plate, blood, fire and anguish. War was dirty, scary and frankly terrifying when the shooting started. No matter how many times he went under fire, no matter how many times he survived another battle, it scared him. It was so good to be back home with her.

"Just…?" She reached up to stroke his face, bringing him back to face her. He was glad. The images in front of his eyes were too raw just now.

"Just…in love."

The moment he said it he felt like backtracking. He knew it was true, but saying it like that made it seem so mundane and so…normal. Like she could never know what she meant to him. He sighed, frustrated at his inability to form the words he wanted. He was no good at being in love. He tried to move away from her, ashamed that he couldn't giver her any better. She deserved better.

Then she kissed him.

It wasn't exactly tentative, more determined but gentle, as though she was trying to make him see sense in the softest way possible. He returned her kiss, glad to have her touch again. His arms found their way around her, pulling her closer for more contact. His body near-burned for the feel of her close to him. He felt her heartbeat so close to his that he swore they were beating the same rhythm. It felt good. It reminded him of being pressed back-to-back with his _vode_, calming himself before an op, before the shooting started. It reminded him of family. And home.

His hands slid to her waist, revelling in the warmth of her skin under his hands. He felt the scarf slip from his fingers and land by their feet. He seemed to feel his control slipping away too.

He needed her. He hadn't realised how much until she'd stepped into his arms, filling his thoughts with her and intoxicating his senses. Being away from her had been agony. It seemed to hurt more every time he left. He pulled her flush against him, trying to eliminate the space between them, groaning into the kiss as he felt the heat of her body against him. He pulled away, looking deep into her dark eyes.

"I think you should take this off, _cyar'ika_. Otherwise it'll end up smelling like you more than me." He had tried to keep the desire out of his voice, tried to make it seem like he was totally in control of his feelings. But his whole body shook. He thought he might cry if she let go of him now.

She met his eyes and he watched as the hints of a smirk play at the corners of her mouth. She leaned in for another kiss, but stopped short of his lips, barely a hairs breadth between them. His nerves screamed for her contact.

"Why don't you take it off me?"

The last of his control slipped away. He crushed her lips to his, capturing them in a heated lock. He lifted her off the floor and set her on the kitchen counter, pulling her harder and harder against him, trying with all his might not to hurt her but at the same time completely lost to her lips, her touch. Her arms were around him, her hands playing over his chest and abdomen, playing the corded muscle like a musical instrument. His whole body seemed to sing.

Eventually, they moved to the bed.

He did remove the shirt, too, eventually. It just got in the way.

When he put it on the next morning, it smelt like her. He knew he would carry the memories of this night with her around with him, like her scent kept him sane during the times when he thought he would crack.

He was glad.

**Finis**

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><p><em>I'm such a fail. Instead of 'Reasons to Live For', I give you this mediocre compensation. *sigh* I promise 'Reasons' will be up as soon as I find the time to write it…I'm very busy this weekend…I'm so so so so sorry. I feel very disappointed in myself. :(<em>

_Please lemme know how much you liked this. It may produce RtLF faster. ;) I love clones…gah._

_~TheLightIsMine_


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